


When He Was Young

by WhisperOfWarmth



Category: saigenos - Fandom, ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man
Genre: Cute Genos, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Friendship/Love, Funny, I Ship It, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Love Confessions, M/M, One Punch Man - Freeform, One True Pairing, Out of Character, Protective Saitama, Sorry Not Sorry, sad genos, saigenos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-28 09:12:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17784629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperOfWarmth/pseuds/WhisperOfWarmth
Summary: Saitama and Genos have finally taken the plunge and moved their relationship with each other from mere friends, to boyfriends. And each man is happy with what they have with the other. However, old memories and current difficulties keep the cyborg Genos from being as content as he could. Is Saitama up the challenge of repairing things that have been long-broken in the blonde?





	When He Was Young

“It’s so cold in here,” Saitama muttered, shivering as he pulled his sweatshirt tighter around himself. Genos immediately leapt up and went to the small gray thermostat on the wall. 

“I will adjust the heat for you, then, Saita—“

Before he could finish his sentence, Saitama was across the room in an instant, nearly tripping over the table in an effort to get to him. “No! Are you crazy?! It’s only mid-fall; if we start using the heat now, we won’t have any money left to pay the bill for when we’ll REALLY need it in the winter!”

This reaction shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Genos; Saitama was _always_ so concerned about money and finances. 

“Life doesn’t come cheap,” he would say to Genos time and time again, “So it’s super-important to always be on the lookout to make things easier. Sales, bargains, second-hands, used thrift shops ... it’s entirely possible to live _well_ , even if you’re not living _rich_.”

And Genos could understand this. Although he didn’t allow himself to remember much of his earlier life with his family, he DID recall how they had to scrimp and pinch just to make ends meet.

So Genos merely nodded now, backing away. “Then ... I will get you the extra blankets from the closet?”

Saitama smiled, and he leaned up and kissed Genos’ cheek, causing the latter’s face to flush a dark, attractive pink.

“That sounds good. Thank you.”

Saitama turned and went back towards the futon on the floor, and Genos went to the closet for the blankets. He wondered if this was going to be one of the nights that Saitama requested his presence beside him, for when he slept. Most of the time, the cyborg spent the evening hours reading, or sometimes researching new and interesting strength training methods on Saitama’s old computer. After all, Genos didn’t need to sleep, and he wasn’t really one to waste time in idleness, either.

Not that spending time with Saitama was ‘idleness’, at all.

The two had started a romantic relationship with each other several weeks ago, and both of them were enjoying the newfound closeness with one another. Saitama had never had interest in “that kinda stuff” before, and Genos had never formed an intimate connection with another person, even before becoming a cyborg.

There was some initial awkwardness with the situation, as neither man quite knew how to handle the attentions (or affections) of the other. For example, a few days ago Saitama had come up behind Genos and locked his arms tightly around his chest, intending to kiss his cheek. But Genos had assumed that Saitama was testing his reflexes, trying to catch him off-guard; so Genos had ducked out of Saitama’s grip, grabbed his wrist and flipped him backwards into the wall. This sort of blow would have severely injured another person, but Saitama merely stood up, brushed the debris from his clothes, and laughed so hard it made his stomach hurt.

“Remind me not to do that again,” Saitama had said when he calmed down, putting his arms around the embarrassed Genos’ waist. “And you’re fixing that wall, by the way.”

Now, Genos brought the blankets back and laid them one at a time over Saitama, who was laying sideways on the futon, facing the tv.

“Come watch this movie with me,” he said, turning back the blankets and gesturing for Genos to join him. “It’s really good; has a lot of action just like you like.”

Genos laid down and then scooted back into Saitama’s waiting arms, smiling to himself. He was still reeling with the idea that feelings like this could exist; that he could feel such a deep satisfaction from something that wasn’t perfecting a move, or vanquishing an enemy. That he could radiate from the inside out with such bliss, simply from laying in another person’s arms and watching a movie.

Fairly quickly, Saitama fell asleep, and Genos gently took the remote from between them and turned off tv, moving slowly and quietly so as not to wake him. Saitama turned over on his side, and Genos turned with him, putting his arms around HIM, now.

Saitama gave a tiny shiver in his sleep, and Genos frowned. His earlier fears that his body was simply too cold all came crowding into the front of his mind. He shook his head in disgust as he gazed at his mechanical arms, the way they gleamed in the moonlight coming through the slit in the window-curtains.

 _Even with the blankets and the extra clothing, he is effected by my lack of human heat._ , Genos thought to himself sadly. _He deserves better; somebody who can provide him with the warmth of a REAL person._

Then he had an idea; maybe, he could adjust his internal mechanisms so that his metallic parts would warm up, thus keeping Saitama warm. He had never tried this on such a small scale before (his body only became excessively heated when he was in the throes of battle), but he figured it was worth a try. He concentrated, and could hear the distinctive low thrum of his power-system coming on. He could feel the outside of his arms warm up, slowly at first but then more, and more, and —

“Ow!”, Saitama screamed out suddenly, bolting up-right and out of the futon. He danced barefoot around the room, rubbing the redness of his arms. Genos’ heat had burnt holes into the sleeves, exposing Saitama’s bare skin. “Was I dreaming?! Did I fall into a fire pit?”

Genos, sitting up now, shook his head. “I am sorry. It was I who caused you discomfort.”

“Y-you? How?”

Looking down, Genos confessed:

“Your body indicated that it had become chilled while you slept. My analysis of the situation brought the conclusion that your drop in body temperature was due to ... to the coldness of my metal arms. So I attempted to raise my external temperature to provide you comfort. Unfortunately, my calculations were —“

“Okay, okay,” Saitama interrupted, shaking his head. He went to his dresser and pawed out a long sleeved t-shirt, discarding the damaged one to the floor. “You over-think everything, you know that?”

He then pulled out another shirt, this one a sweater.

He got back into bed, and pulled the sweater down over Genos. Normally Genos was unable to wear anything with sleeves, because of the size of his arms; but this one fit perfectly. Saitama had gotten it at a going out of business sale, and the man, who was quite portly, had thrown the sweater in for free. Once the sweater was in place, Saitama yawned as laid back down, turning over on his side. “Put your arms back around me.”

Genos cautiously did as he was told.

“See? Your shirt prevents me from being cold, and it prevents you from having to try and mess with your heating-thing. Win-win.”

“But ... I ruined your other shirt. So how do you label the situation a ‘win-win’?”

“Because I like having your arms around me MORE than I liked that shirt, that’s how.”, Saitama answered, with a grin on his face. “Honestly, how can you be so smart, yet have NO sense whatsoever?”

“I still don’t believe —“

Saitama interrupted him by twisting around, softly touching his cheek, and kissing his lips.

“Love you,” he murmured, before turning back around. “Now be quiet for a while, let me get some sleep. And no more surprise heat-attacks.”

It was silent for awhile after that, and Saitama assumed that Genos had quieted himself down, finally. But within a few moments his voice came out of the darkness, sounding tentative and unsure.

“I believe my hearing piece temporarily malfunctioned, during the first part of your orders. Can you repeat them for me?”

“I said be quiet, and don’t surprise me with heat anymore.”

“I heard that. I meant the other part; I believe I heard you incorrectly.”

“You’re not referring to the ‘love you’ thing, are you?”, Saitama asked, turning himself around so that they were facing each other. “Because you didn’t hear that wrong. I do. I love you.”

For once, for maybe the only time since Saitama had known him, Genos was struck completely speechless. He opened his mouth several times, unable to formulate the proper response to this revelation. But in the end, there was only one possible thing he COULD say.

“I love you, too, Saitama.”

Saitama put his hands on Genos’ face and pulled him forward, enjoying the soft, sweet nectar of Genos’ lips. “That made me feel like my heart exploded,” he murmured in-between the progressively deeper kisses.

Genos pulled back, though, at hearing his words, and frowned.

“Well, technically speaking, the heart is not the organ that regulates the hormones that pertain to love. Really, it’s more so the brain that releases —“

Saitama pulled the pillow from behind his head and playfully swatted it into Genos’ face. “Yeah, yeah. You can give me the science lecture in the morning. But right now ... I wasn’t anywhere NEAR done with your lips. So scoot back over here, please.”

So Genos smiled, and obliged him.

—-

“Mr. Saitama ... did you save over my data again?”

“Er, um ... did I? I suppose ... possibly ...”

“Argh!”, the man exclaimed with a face-palm. “I was on Level 32! I had just gotten the three Crown Jewels and the blue elixir! And you erased it for — a level 12 grunt? Really?”

“Relax,” Saitama said, taking a sip of his soda. “It couldn’t have taken you that long to get to level 32, right?”

“What? It took me three weeks!”

“Ah, er, um ... hey you want some more sushi?”, Saitama asked, getting up and sprinting to the kitchen before the man could answer. His loud grumble of frustration followed Saitama all the way in, and he chuckled up himself.

Since becoming a professional hero, Saitama had had a bumpy road with the various members of the Hero Association. His lax attitude combined with his seemingly effortless (some would say ‘cheating’) victories had earned him ‘enemies’ from all 4 class ranks (such as Tatsumaki from S-class and Tank Top Tiger from C-class). However, very slowly, he began to make friends within the organization. 

And this was strange, for Saitama. He had gone his entire life without feeling the need to form any real connections or closeness to other people. Then Genos had come along, and before they became lovers, Genos’ companionship had thrown the door wide open to the world of friendship and comradeship for Saitama. And bit by bit, others had been pulled into Saitama’s life in this same manner.

Several of those people were here, now, at the apartment, enjoying a lazy afternoon of food (most of which had been brought by the guests themselves), drinks, and conversations.

S-class hero King was the man Saitama had just left in the living room, busily working his way back through the video game that Saitama had ‘borrowed’ from him last week. S-class hero Silver Fang (who preferred to be called Bang) was sitting on a mat underneath the window, his disciple Charanko by his side, both eating bowls of rice and peppers while Bang explained to a standing Genos about a new move he had been perfecting in his dojo during the past week. The move sounded powerful to Genos, so he was making notes of it in his little silver training notebook. In the center of the room, sitting gracefully in Saitama’s sole chair, munching on a sushi roll and quietly observing everyone around her, was the beautiful B-class hero Fubuki, an esper and younger sister to the aforementioned Tatsumaki. She was surrounded by 3 of her grunts, B-class heroes in their own right, one of whom was an avid gamer and actively trying to convince King to switch to a 2-player game so that they could compete against one another.

Fubuki was an odd one to be there, to be honest. Ever since Saitama had joined B-class she had been trying to convince him to join her faction, aptly named the Fubuki group. Fubuki was somebody to whom rank and prestige mattered a great deal, which clashed with Saitama’s lackadaisical attitude towards things of that nature. After spending time in Saitama’s presence, as well as being ‘saved’ by him when her powers had been weakened during a monster attack, she had cut down on her recruitment efforts (although she never laid off entirely).

Saitama wouldn’t exactly label them as _friends_ ; rather, she was somebody whose presence Saitama didn’t mind from time to time. He didn’t necessarily like her, but he didn’t hate her, either.

However, it was very different with Genos.

He wasn’t sure what, exactly, it was; but the fact remained that Genos just plain did not like Fubuki. Even after her (drastic) change in behavior, he rebuffed all attempts to get to know her, the way the others had made friends with her. Still, he was unerringly polite to her, even if it was only perfunctory, and she seemed to accept the cold stiffness towards her as being their ‘norm’.

“Saitamaaaaa!”, King roared from the other room, snapping Saitama out of his thoughts. He had finally succumbed to the video game enthusiast and switched to a two-player game, only to make a nasty discover. “Did you save over THIS game, too?!”

Saitama sighed and grabbed an extra sushi roll from the tray, hoping the added food would be enough to appease him.

_Jeez — if he’s this upset about the games, how’s he gonna react when he finds out I accidentally broke his PSP?_

—-

“I can’t believe this! I didn’t need any of you, I could have handled it on my own! And you, you stupid robot; who told you to interfere with the pinhead monster? I didn’t need you to help, I was fine on my own! I —“

Genos sighed, feeling annoyed. He, the S-class Hero Tatsumaki, and a couple of A-class heroes had been sent by the hero association to dispatch several powerful monsters that had converged on the border between Y and Z city. After a hard-fought battle, they had emerged victorious ... but of course, Tatsumaki found something to complain about.

Genos wisely kept quiet, keeping his eyes on the ground and nodding along to her tirade. He didn’t agree with her words in he slightest, but he had learned from experience that to open his mouth and challenge her would result in a rather fast trip into the nearest hard surface. And while Genos wasn’t afraid of the pain, he didn’t fancy the idea of having to go into Dr. Kuseno for repairs for something he could easily prevent.

He knew Tatsumaki was done when he saw her floating away, and heard the sighs of relief from the others.

He looked around. The damage caused by the monsters wasn’t as bad as usual, but still quite extensive. Genos set to work righting a wall that had been knocked over, as around him others did the same.

“Need some help?”

He looked up; Fubuki was standing to his right, two of her henchmen several yards behind behind her.

“No, thanks,” he said, moving on to the next wall. “I can handle it myself.”

Fubuki watched him for awhile, before stepping a little closer, and saying, “ _She_ sure is hard to handle, huh?”

Genos barely glanced up.

“Who?”

“My sister, of course. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to work alongside her; it must be torturous.”

Moving on to another wall, Genos replied “Tatsumaki possesses a great deal of power, wisdom, and battle prowess. To be able to work alongside such strength is a blessing, not ‘torturous’.”

Fubuki chuckled at that, shaking her head. “Yes, yes, I suppose that’s the ‘correct’ thing to say. But come on, just between friends; isn’t she a pain in the ass?”

Straightening up, and looking directly at her for the first time, Genos replied, “You and I, we’re not friends.”

Seemingly undaunted by this, Fubuki asked, “Is that because of our class differences? Are you one of those S-class snobs who believes that associating with a lower ranking hero is beneath you?”

“Rank and title mean very little to me,” he told her, wiping a bit of dirt from his face. Then he said, somewhat coldly, “If anyone here has an unhealthy fixation with status, it is you.”

For the first time, Fubuki looked sad. She plopped herself down on a large flat stone next to him, her chin resting in her palms.

“I’m trying to change that. I’ve tried so hard to change myself, to be more likable to others. God knows I don’t want to end up like Tatsumaki one day, perpetually angry and always alone. I’ve tried to change. I’m still trying. The rest of your friends, including Saitama, can see this; why can’t you?”

“Why do you care so much about what I think? Or how I feel towards you? You just said yourself; you have gained other friends. MY ‘friendship’ or my approval should not make a difference to you.”

“Ah, you don’t understand. You and Saitama ... you know, you’re both very different from one another. Yet on one aspect, you are the same: you’re influencers. People unknowingly feel compelled to follow you both, and they listen to and respect your opinions.”

She paused, nervously playing with a loose thread in her coat, before she continued.

“You know it’s because of Saitama that others have started to accept me, and offer friendship to me. But he ... Genos, I don’t think you understand, how important YOUR opinion is to him. I saw him on the street last week, and do you know what he said?”, she asked, quietly. “He said that, while it was nothing personal, he couldn’t have me coming to your guys’ home anymore. He said that my presence made YOU uncomfortable, and he didn’t want any situation that made you feel that way.”

She dropped her hands to her lap, and looked him in the eye, as she went on:

“I fear that others will notice this, and decide to shut me out as well. But you know, it’s so much more than that. I feel like I’ve put forth real effort into being a different person, but if someone like you doesn’t see that, then maybe my efforts have all been for nothing. Maybe I’m just destined to always be alone, to never have close friends, to never feel a genuine connection with other humans. And that scares me. It ... it makes me feel less than human.”

Genos stood quietly, taking that all in. Fubuki’s words had touched a deep chord with him; before he had met Saitama, when he had been wandering the streets as a lone cyborg whose sole purpose in life was empty, bloody vengeance ... he had felt exactly the way she was describing right now.

She stood up, folding her arms protectively across her chest. “I should be going,” she said quietly, turning away. “Sorry to bother you, Genos.”

She got a few steps away before Genos caught up to her, reaching out to grab her arm. 

“Wait.”

She turned, looking at him curiously. 

“Yes?”

— -

“Saitama, I’m home,” Genos called out, walking through the door and taking off his shoes. 

“I’m in the kitchen,” Saitama called out. “Foods almost done.”

Genos stepped into the kitchen, and Saitama smiled ... but the greeting he’d had for him died away, when he got a look at who was with him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Genos said, a small smile on his face, “But I’ve brought a friend home for dinner.”

“Hi,” Fubuki said, somewhat shyly, stepping out from behind Genos. “I hope this isn’t an intrusion. I — I’ve brought wine,” she said, holding the bottle out towards him.

He took it, a smile dawning over his face as he looked back and forth between Genos and Fubuki. “Wine is always welcome ... and so are you. You both go sit down; I’ll bring this pot in, in a few minutes.”

Saitama couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between them, as they went into the living room. But whatever it was, he was grateful that the two were finally getting along with each other.

He lifted the lid on the pot, and frowned, cursing lowly to himself. Damn it; he had slightly overlooked the noodles again.

 _Oh, well,_ he thought to himself, as he lifted the pot, _Hopefully, with enough wine, no one will even notice._

—-

“Genos! Where are you?”

Genos quickly put the picture back in the box, clamping the lid down and turning the key. He placed the box back in its hiding place in the closet, just as Saitama came into the room.

“Sorry I’m late,” Saitama said, going to hug him, “But I had to wait forever for the Association to show up to verify my kill.”

Genos raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing. Lately, Saitama had been acting somewhat strangely, putting an unprecedented effort into seeking out monsters to destroy. And in normal situations, half the time when he took down a beast, he didn’t care whether or not the Association officially confirmed his kills. But apparently that had changed as well, as he now hung around to be sure that he would be paid for his deeds.

But why the sudden urgency for money? As far as Genos knew, they had no major expenses coming up. They were ahead of the bills for once, and they were up to date on the rent. What was going on?

Rather than question any of this, though, Genos just shrugged and walked away from Saitama, going to the old computer in the corner.

“Dr. Kuseno sent me some documents regarding some experimental parts he’s creating,” Genos explained, pulling them up. “If he gets then perfected, he’s going to replace my current parts, and my power should be boosted by at least 50%.”

Saitama frowned, coming closer and reading over Genos’ shoulder. “ _More_ powerful? You know that there’s such a thing as being TOO powerful, right?”

Without turning around, Genos said, “I suppose you’re in a better position than anyone to say that, aren’t you? But don’t worry; no matter what upgrades I’ll get, I don’t think I’ll ever be quite on your level.”

“Personally, I don’t see anything wrong with the way you are right now. I happen to think you’re perfect. I think _every_ part of you is perfect,” Saitama said, leaning over Genos and sliding his hands down his body for emphasis. But Genos just wasn’t in the mood for any amorous activity right then. He he shrugged off Saitama’s advances and said,

“I made some Oden earlier; there’s still a lot left if you’re hungry.”

Saitama sighed and nodded. Lately Genos had been a bit downcast, for lack of a better term. Quiet, serious, and, although he didn’t need sleep, his demeanor very much reminded Saitama of someone who was very badly in need of rest.

Well, at any rate, Saitama was currently working on a plan to cheer the blonde up; but until he could bring it to fruition, all he could do was be supportive and bear it.

Later that night, after Saitama had fallen asleep, Genos got up and went back to the closet, taking out the box once more and removing the photograph he had been staring at earlier.

This picture had been taken about 5 years ago, almost exactly to the date, when Genos was 15 years old ... a mere week before the rogue cyborg had rampaged through his village and destroyed his entire world.

In the picture was himself, his mother, his father, his younger sister, and his maternal grandparents, standing and smiling outside of the little house they had lived in. Genos closed his eyes and focused, trying his hardest to recall the sound of his mother’s voice. It was frightening, but as more time passed, the harder it was to recall even the tiniest details about his family. What they sounded like, how they moved, their likes and dislikes, how they moved and smelled ...

This picture was the sole physical reminder he had of that other life. He stared at his fifteen year old self; the pale skin, the gangly arms, the toothy smile, the sky-blue eyes ...

He quickly put the picture back in the box, not allowing his thoughts to go any further. 

He went back into the other room and turned on the tv, making the volume as low as possible so as not to wake Saitama. He curled himself behind him, putting his arms around his waist and using his shoulder as a chin rest, as he stared at the images on the screen. 

Saitama would never know it, but the one thing that Genos coveted more than his strength, was his ability to sleep. He envied that, the ability to shut one’s mind off and escape from reality, if only for a few hours.

 _Perhaps Dr. Kuseno can create that for me, as well,_ he thought to himself dryly, chuckling a little as he finally landed on a suitable movie to watch.

—

“Where are we going?”

“I already told you, it’s a _surprise_ ,” Saitama said, rolling his eyes. “Just trust me and enjoy the scenery, okay?”

Genos looked around; there WAS a lot of ‘scenery’ to admire. They were into the countryside of Z-city, away from the buildings and surrounded by tall grasses and fat trees.

When Saitama had come home earlier and told Genos that they were taking a walk, Genos had been skeptical. Saitama never wanted to take a walk unless they were going to the supermarket; and as it was, their refrigerator was more than full.

His suspicions grew when, out of nowhere, Saitama ran behind him and leaned up, covering Genos’ eyes with his hands.

“What are you doing?!”

“Just hush and keep walking,” Saitama answered, and Genos could practically hear the grin in his voice as he continued, “Just trust my impeccable guiding skills; we’re almost there.”

Eventually, they had walked far enough to where Saitama instructed him to stop, and warned him to keep his eyes closed, as he removed his hands.

“Okay! Look!”, Saitama said to him. Genos blinked, not quite sure what he was looking at. They were standing in a somewhat large square plot of rough dirt, bordered by a high ivy-clad gray fence on three sides, with a partial wall interrupted by a gate leading the way in. The three corners of the walls didn’t quite meet all the way, leaving enough space for a single person to walk in. By the south border of the plot was a rather beautiful pink willow tree, swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze. Close to the tree was a long silver bench, with several chairs grouped around it. Genos looked around; there were other plots of land bordering this one, each fenced in by their own walls. On the gate was a wooden sign, on which the word Genos was written in Saitama’s characteristic sloppy handwriting. 

“The city garden plots?”, Genos asked, looking around curiously. “Why are we here?”

“Ah, well, um, I bought this one for you.”

“W-What?”

“This place is yours,” Saitama said, a small smile on his face. “I wanted to give this to you last month, but I was still low on funds. It’s why I’ve been so busy hunting down monsters lately.”

He gestured to the workbench, where multiple buckets and bags sat. “I also got fertilizer, digging tools, and a variety of different seeds to plant. Carrots, tomatoes, cabbages, potatoes, zucchini’s; and I also thought of carving out a little space in the back for some wild strawberries, if the vegetables don’t take up too much —“

“But, I do not understand. Why have you done this?”

“Well, I kinda thought it’d help you feel better.”, Saitama explained, and before Genos could question it, he went on, quietly,

“I’ve just noticed that, well, it seems like you’ve been feeling a bit down lately. So I thought — er, well, remember that story you told me a couple of weeks back?”, Saitama asked, putting a hand on Genos’ arm. “You said when you were a child, your mother kept a big vegetable garden to cut down on the cost of buying food at the market. You said your daily chore was to go out in the morning and pick the vegetables needed for breakfast. You told me that standing in the sunshine, with the birds singing and the air smelling crisp and clear, was when you were the happiest. I ... I know, you don’t like to remember your family, or that life, because it hurts. But I thought that this, well —“

Genos shrugged off Saitama’s arm and walked a little way forwards, his back to Saitama.

Saitama stayed where he was, feeling scared and depressed, thinking he had surely upset Genos by bringing up those bad feelings of the past.

But Genos was thinking ... it finally made sense. Why Saitama had been so gung-ho about going out and finding monsters to destroy. Why he skirted Genos’ questions about what he was doing with the Hero Association money he’d received for defeating said monsters. 

“I ... I’m sorry, Gen! Please don’t be angry; I didn’t mean to hurt you with this! I just —“

Suddenly Genos whirled around, and Saitama took a half-step backwards, shocked. Genos’ cheeks were pink, and moisture, TEARS, were trickling in a steady stream down his face.

 _Dr. Kuseno told me a long time ago that Genos was capable of this,_ Saitama thought to himself, still in a frozen daze, _But I never thought I’d actually see him do it. Still, if he’s actually crying, he must be even more upset than I’d thought._

Saitama forced himself to move his feet and approach Genos, his arms held up apologetically.

“Please; I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean —“

Genos surprised him again, this time by throwing his arms around Saitama and squeezing him tightly.

“I can’t believe you would do something like this for ME!”, Genos eventually got out, sobbing against Saitama’s neck.

“So ... so you’re not angry? You’re not upset?”

Genos pulled back just slightly, putting both hands on Saitama’s cheeks and pulling him forward into a deep kiss. Saitama breathed out a tiny sigh of relief through his nose, as the blonde continued to kiss him.

“Okay, okay,” Saitama said after awhile, smiling and reluctantly separating himself from Genos. “Come on, we’ve got to pull you together. I’ve invited everyone over for a breaking ground party. They’re going to help us prepare the soil and plant the seeds.”

Saitama took the edge of his shirt and carefully wiped Genos’ tears away. “You know, once this place is in full-bloom, it’ll be great to visit on summer nights. Lay down a blanket, bring a little wine, maybe some sweet cakes, and —“

“This place is much bigger than I expected,” came a voice from behind, startling them. They turned; it was Fubuki and three of her men, all looking quite casual wearing old clothes and wide-brimmed hats. She gestured to one of her men, who stepped forward with a large, decorative box. “We brought some blueberry crepes. Saitama said they are one of your favorite desserts, Genos-kun.”

“Wow, this is cool!” said Mumen Rider, riding up to them from the opposite direction. He opened up his backpack, grinning as he said, “I managed to get hold of some good Sake.”

“This is just like the game ‘Pretty Pretty Garden Party’,” King said, coming in through the gate. “Except none of you are dressed like geishas.”

“Did somebody say Sake?”, asked Bang, walking up with Charanko by his side. “Good; it’ll go well with the strawberry mochi we brought.”

“Hey, lay off on too much Sake, gramps,” Saitama said, clapping a hand on Bang’s shoulder. “You get too drunk and in a few weeks we’ll find something like swimming trunks sprouting where the vegetables should be.”

Everyone laughed, and Genos stood back, looking around everybody with pride. It was true that he would never have his old life, or his family, back. It was also true that he would never be fully human again. But standing out here, with everyone laughing and talking around him, feeling the pleasant heat on his face and the breeze in his hair ... was there anything more human than that? For that matter, being a part of a group that cared for and supported one another ... was there a better example of a _family_ , than that?

“Oi, Genos, come over here,” Saitama said, turning towards him and holding out his hand. “This is YOUR garden, after all; come tell us where you want stuff planted.”

So Genos took his hand and joined him in the warm sunshine.


End file.
